


Cullen and His Lingering Regrets

by StoleTarts



Series: Dragon Age: A How-To Guide [6]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: M/M, Non-Canon Relationship, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-29
Updated: 2015-08-12
Packaged: 2018-02-27 09:58:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2688596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StoleTarts/pseuds/StoleTarts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A slightly-intoxicated Commander Cullen of the Inquisition confesses his lingering regrets to Varric in regards to Kirkwall. Hawke agrees to meet with Cullen to discuss their diminished relationship. Prequel to Hawke and His Lingering Regrets.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part One

Letting himself into the former Knight-Captain’s office, Varric frowned at Cullen’s current state of being. Sitting at his desk with his opened, yet unused lyrium box and a half-empty bottle of dark liquor, the Commander of the Inquisition’s armies sat leaned over with his head resting in his hands. “Uh, Curly?” the dwarf asked with some hesitation. “Got a minute?” Groaning, the somewhat-intoxicated man looked up and squinted until his vision became relatively clear.

“Ah, yes. Of course. What can I help you with?” Moving to stand, he wobbled at first, but quickly balanced himself by using both hands on top of the wooden surface as a brace.

“Right… Well, as you might have heard Cassandra screaming earlier, I managed to contact Hawke. Considering how you two are friends and all, I thought you might want to…talk to him? Can’t help but notice the awkward silences and evasive changes in topic whenever I bring your name up though. Since I can’t get a straight answer out of that guy, I figured I’d ask you instead.” Frowning, Cullen’s gaze turned back to the bottle as he collapsed back down into the chair. “That bad, huh?” With a sigh, a stool was pulled up and climbed into get be comfortable. “Come on then, let’s hear it. Completely off the record, I swear. What the fuck happened between the two of you to get you all bent out of shape like this? I get the feeling that there’s more to it than just the Chantry blowing up.” 

“I haven’t told anyone about this…Maker help me.” Feeling defeated, he leaned back to stare up at the hole in his ceiling which led to the second floor by ladder and took in a deep breath. 

“What?” he was laughed at with a huff. “That you and Hawke fooled around that one time? It was years ago though! He was never mad about that, Curly!” Looking startled, he sat up straight after nearly falling backwards and stared with wide eyes.

“Wait, you knew about…?” However, the shocked expression soon relaxed. “No, of course you knew. I’m only surprised it didn’t show up in your _Tales of the Champion_ book…which I suppose I should be grateful for.” Shifting around, a dismissive hand was waved. “I barely remember what happened that night anyway. We were completely drunk and… At any rate, it was just a one-time occurrence. So no, I mean afterwards, but before Anders…did what he did.”

“Uh huh?” Nodding in disbelief, Varric leaned over to listen in. “Go on then. What’s got you all twisted? Oh, it is how the Inquisitor and Hawke really look… ” There was another groan as the liquor bottle was reached for, but pulled the hand back before touching the glass.

“Ugh, don’t remind me. It’s just… Do you remember how Hawke and I were close even before we… you know…that one night? He was unlike any of the other mages I had ever seen before, which is saying something considering how I was a Templar and even briefly met the Hero of Ferelden. He was disciplined, and more importantly, he actually believed in the Order. Not of what it became, but what it was supposed to be. Every time there was a runaway mage or threats of blood magic, he dealt with it as any believer would and assisted me without much fuss. I…trusted him. I _should_ have trusted him then too.”

“Should have? What do you mean? Did you two have a falling out over something you didn’t take his word on?” As he was probed, the frown deepened as his forehead was placed on the desk with a single nod. “Huh, so what was it then? Something about Meredith being crazy? We all told you that.”

“More than that.” Pushing himself to stand, the commander moved to his bookshelf while his eyes lingered at the floor with hands clasped behind his back. “Hawke…warned me about Anders and the attack on the Chantry before it happened.”

“What?” Even the storyteller was taken aback. “But Hawke didn’t know what Anders was planning! None of us did!”

“Not exactly, no. After we…you know…he eventually began a romantic relationship with that damned man. It didn’t make any sense to me, especially how much they argued particularly in regards to the Templars and the other mages. Still, it happened, so when he came to me to warn me about Anders’ behavior and Meredith’s slipping into madness, I…I ignored it. More so, I dismissed his claims entirely and accused him of being brainwashed by his lover’s lies and attempting to manipulate me into using Templar resources to investigate false claims so Anders could do something even more devious were I to focus on his information.”

“Ouch. I bet he took _that_ well.”

“I called him a fool and a traitor, in so many words, and we never spoke again until after Anders destroyed the Chantry. It was only when I saw how hurt and utterly…heartbroken he looked when it happened did I realize that he had no idea about what Anders had planned.”

“And that he came to you really because he trusted you to help him stop whatever Blondie was plotting.”

“Exactly. I…I betrayed that trust.”

“So, you’re basically saying that you were jealous he hooked up with Anders and when he tried to tell you that his boyfriend was acting crazy, you called him a liar.” A head was shaken while making a sour face to the accusation.

“What? No! Well, yes, but I wasn’t jealous! It’s just that Anders was…well you know how he was then. He thought himself to be some great defender of mage rights and constantly wrote those awful manifestos. I was only trying to keep the peace, but I now believe that Meredith’s hatred for the mages and the red lyrium may have affected me as well just by proximity. I should have…I should have just listened to Hawke. He was a good friend regardless of who he was with and for being a mage. My deepest regret is how blind I was to see that… To see everything back then, really.”

“So, apologize?” With a shrug, Varric stood up and pushed his stool back to where he found it. “Listen, you haven’t said anything that was so terrible that a simple apology wouldn’t work. This is _Hawke_ we’re talking about. He’s probably just avoiding you because he thinks you hate him. If you’re over here beating yourself up about something that happened before the sky had this big ass hole in it, I suggest you get it out your system now...before it’s too late.”

“It’s not that I’m worried about whether or not _if_ he’ll forgive me, Varric. It’s whether or not I _deserve_ to be forgiven.”

“Look Curly, you’re no longer the Templar you were in Kirkwall, right? You’re here leading the Inquisition’s armies, run by yet another mage no less, and doing a pretty damn good job at it. I’d say you deserve a break. Look, I’m gonna go give him the message and send him up here. Clean up a bit, ya?” With that, Cullen was left alone and put his hands on his hips to stand there with his own jumbled thoughts. The first thing he did was look around the messy office and began to pick up fallen papers as suggested. The open bottle on his desk was closed and tucked away, hidden behind several bound books on his shelf. Unsure where to put his old lyrium stash, he tucked the closed box under an arm and climbed the ladder to his bedroom loft to put it under mattress. While still on the second floor, he heard one of his doors open and shut.

“Hawke? I’m up here. Lock both doors will you before coming up?”

“…Sure thing,” the mage replied and proceeded to turn the clasp on the door he entered from and walked to the other side to repeat the process before climbing up the ladder as well. The first thing Cullen saw was the grown-out, white hair of his former friend.

“Here, let me help you,” he smiled with an offered hand. “Don’t worry. The floor is a bit squeaky, but stable.” Cautiously, Hawke accepted and pulled himself up with help to the partial second story.

“Not quite the dungeon you used to sleep in, but I see the appeal,” he then teased and looked away, taking steps back to purposely distance himself. “Varric said you wanted to see me? Battle plans I presume for the fortress? If you’re worried about me following orders, I…”

“No, no. That’s not it.”

“Oh? Are the mages here giving you trouble then? I could speak to them if you…”

“Hawke, no. Stop for a moment and listen. Please.” Feeling pressured, his green eyes on Cullen’s form and folded his arms over the broad chest plate with feet parted. His lips pressed together as he waited to be told what this was all about while his gaze made his former friend and one-time bed partner uneasily shift while trying to think of the right words to say.

“I…wanted to apologize, formally, for how I treated you.” Snickering, Hawke just laughed and dropped his guard.

“Maker, I thought you were about to tell me that you were in debt to the Carta and were about to ask me for a loan! Why are you apologizing? You haven’t done anything to me. We haven’t even spoken since Kirkwall.” As he moved in closer, Cullen reacted with a stiffened posture.

“Exactly my point! We _haven’t_ spoken since Kirkwall. We haven’t spoken since that… Listen, I know I said some very harsh things to you when you came to me for help about Anders before all of this happened. They were cruel and unfair to you at the time. I would like to blame Meredith’s seeping red lyrium, but I should have known better. I am deeply sorry. Truly. I…should have believed you and not accused you of…those _things_.” With a smirk, the mage folded his arms over his chest once again and leaned back against an angled leg since he and Cullen were nearly the exact same height.

“So, what you mean to say is, ‘ _Sorry Seren, I didn’t mean to call you a crazy, rebellious, and lying mage seduced by the great, dark one known as Anders as if you were trying to brew up some misdirecting, secret plan to overthrow my Templar reign?’_ Are you drunk or something? Seriously?” Moving in to enter personal space once again, he sniffed at the drying, pink lips. “What is that? Scotch?” They were quickly turned away from the invading nose.

“I…had a few drinks, yes, but I am not inebriated…and I have never used your first name. Not in public, anyway.”

“…I’ve heard _that_ before,” he was continually teased with a smile. “Fine, I accept your apology under one condition.”

“Condition? Just one?” was laughed as with more ease. “Fine. Name your pric…” Before Cullen could finish with his own playful mocking, he found himself locking lips under the banner of a rekindled friendship. It was an unexpected, though not entirely unwelcome, action so deep and powerful it had him stammering backwards and forced him to push Hawke away only so they both wouldn’t fall. Upon release, he had to catch his breath while covering his mouth as to not be taken advantage of once again. He was then smiled at and watched the other's tongue lick across plush lips in thought.

“Hm, as I thought. Scotch.”

“Bloody hell, Seren! What did you do that for?!” He didn’t know whether to be angry or simply annoyed no one had asked his permission first. “Why would you kiss me?”

“…You…looked as if you needed it,” he was shrugged at coyly as Hawke turned to eye the ladder. “All this work plus you’ve been sitting here worried about my opinion of you…Really _Rutherford_ , I’m no one to fuss over. You came to help when called upon and I…” There was disappointment in his voice which came out very clearly while explaining his own actions, or lack thereof. “…I should get back.” Kneeling down, he reached for the means to head back to the first floor, but his hand was caught and pulled away instead. He was squatted next to and smiled at as his hand was carefully placed against a warm cheek and its rough, dark-blond stubble.

“Please, don’t leave yet.” Eyes softened as he scratched at the fur there.

“You’re drunk, Cullen.”

“I’m not drunk, I told you,” he laughed while leaning into the petting.

“That’s what you said last time.”

“I wasn’t really drunk then either.”

“But you don’t even remember…”

“Yes, I do. All of it. I only thought it would be easier since you were still pretty hurt about Fenris and a scandal would break out if the news that the Knight-Captain of the Templars was seen carrying on with Kirkwall’s mage Champion was made public.”

“And what about now?”

“Well, I’m not a Templar anymore.” There was a laugh at that and Cullen was playfully pushed away to make enough room to stand up again.

“You do know that I’m still with Anders, yes? We may have a bit of an…odd open-relationship, but that doesn’t mean that…”

“That? That what? That I don't regret pretending not seeing you leave that morning and as if I had forgotten everything? That I accused you of being manipulated by Anders because I was too foolish to see how you were desperately looking for help?” Following, he cornered Hawke near the bed and took both of the other man’s hands into his own. “There’s so much I wish I could say more clearly, but…”

“Scotch,” he was interrupted. “You drank scotch that night too. I had wandered into your dorm that night and you revealed your stash. We talked about…”

“…How our razor stubble apparently drove our partners away and how hard it was to find a date that truly appreciated how we were simply too busy saving everyone else’s arses to shave properly. You still haven’t been shaving either, I see,” he smiled as he reached up to scratch at the short, white hairs standing out in deep contrast to Hawke’s still youthful, dark-caramel completion.

“Sort of a difficult task to accomplish while being on the run and…” But it was his turn to be interrupted by the captain’s kiss this time. It was a vigorous thing, nearly violent with gentle biting and heavy breathing, which showed no signs of stopping. The taste of the dark liquor filled his mouth while the feelings behind the gesture made him weak in the knees. His arms went around the large fur-lined neck adornment to grab at the red tuffs there and push them off of the broad shoulders they were resting on. Once the cloak hit the floor, Cullen pulled away only just to take off his gloves and toss them out of the way as well. With bare hands, his fingers snaked into Hawke’s overgrown, snowy hair to grip the shabby strands and pulled to angle the face upwards.

“Even as a Templar, I never felt more powerful than you,” he confessed while Hawke’s body was pinned against his wall.

“…Did I frighten you?”

“Yes… In more ways than one.” A grin appeared.

“Good."


	2. Part Two

As pieces of armor hit the floor one by one, sounds of metal clashing against the wooden floor and laughter filled the room as the two middle-aged men found it extremely amusing undressing one another. Both were covered in layers upon layers of protective gear, but it was Cullen who found flesh first by opening a thin, white, silk robe which had been hidden under three or four thicker, worn-out linen ones and unraveling an old bandage from around the mage’s midsection. Hawke also located the commander’s skin as well after pulling apart the leather-tied strings of a weathered, but still well-padded, doublet and tugging a simple undershirt over his head.

“Scars,” they said to each other in near unison as they both had marks on their bodies which weren’t there four years ago. A brown index finger traced down a short diagonal line near Cullen’s waist just left of the man’s navel.

“Sword wound?” was asked as deep breath was taken to flex the muscles there.

“Indeed. Before Cassandra recruited me from Kirkwall, one of the recruits turned on me because I wouldn’t let him kill a young mage I was helping escort out of the city,” was sighed in remembrance. “The girl was only seven years old, had just left her home only weeks before the Rebellion. When I stood between her and another Templar’s sword, I was run through. I found her hovering over my cot later, crying her eyes out and trying desperately to heal me with what little magic she could manifest. I placed her in the care of other mages when I joined the Inquisition. I may not have fully understood why you defended them when Anders attacked the Chantry, but I do now. The Circle didn’t just hold veteran blood magic users. There were also children there, some barely into their primaries like she was, but we were told to kill them as well. You…understood that.” It was then his turn to trace his fingers over Hawke’s chest where he caressed a small, but fairly fresh mark. It was only a few centimeters long, likely from a short dagger, but how close it was to his friend’s heart concerned him. “And you? This is likely to have an interesting tale attached.”

“Sure,” was shrugged smugly as he slowly squatted down to kiss on Cullen's body where the new scar he had found was. “I got stabbed. End of story.” While the commander frowned at the brush off, he remained still as his smallclothes were pulled from his waist and the kissing continued around more sensitive areas. Maybe it was the scotch that allowed for such complacency or the sad truth of not letting anyone near him in such a vulnerable state for over a year. Whichever it was, he forced his hands away from Hawke’s nude body to hold himself up against the wall as his groin was licked and teased to a full, throbbing erection.

A few groans released from the back of his throat as his inner, muscular thighs were scratched. Looking down, he caught the lustful glimpses of those strangely-illuminated, seafoam pupils looking up at him. While being started at, Hawke would bounce the pink tip against his tongue on purpose to give the man a good show until the one watching became too flustered to continue looking. It was an intricate dance between embarrassing the highly aroused blonde and genuinely working with his nether regions to send him over the edge in uncontrollable pleasure. It didn’t take long for his first load to be sprayed inside of the mage’s mouth. The sheer amount choked the receiver to where the rest had to be squirted over his lips and chin.

“Been awhile?” Hawke taunted as he stood up presumably to gather his own armor to leave even with his own erection pulsating, but was instead spun around and landed on his back on top of the bed.

“You think you can get away that easy?” Cullen asked as he crawled on top of the champion, kicking off his still lowered undergarments.

“Thought crossed my mind… Templar or not, wouldn’t it be strange if someone found us tangled up like this?”

“I don't remember you protesting about that happening the first time," the scarred lips grinned. "And if the Seekers couldn’t find you just a few klicks from Kirkwall, I’m pretty sure no one is going to suspect to look for you in my chambers… If they do, well, you did lock the doors…” Hawke grunted in response, already won over by the pecks and nips to his neck. Sensual biting was a weakness of his and it didn’t help how the man pinning him down already knew that about him. It continued south to his chest, where Cullen stopped to stare at the potentially fatal wound once again, but decided to run his tongue over it while licking his way back to soft, dark-pink lips.

As they easily slipped into heavy and sloppy kissing, his callused left hand moved to interlock his fingers with the mage's and used it to his advantage to pin Hawke’s arm above them while his right one slid down the champion’s side, eventually finding its way between the pair of toned, tan-colored thighs. It was a clumsy gesture, Hawke thought as his sex was stimulated the way he assumed the commander would touch himself. There were slow up and down strokes at first, followed by some twisting around the knob and thumbing at the dripping slit. Any notion of pre-cum was squeezed out to use as lubrication all while his mouth, ears, and neck where still being nibbled. Cues were taken at how much he would moan and distort or how tightly he squeezed the hand being held in return. The grinding against the swollen head forced him to gasp for air and spill more juice between the fingers holding it. Feeling his own sex stiffen once again at the painfully erotic scene, Cullen was soon aching to plunge his cock it whatever hole he could.

“What are you waiting for?” he was asked as the panting body underneath him grew increasingly restless and wiggled about with spreading legs to make it even more obvious as to what was being referred.

“…But you’re not… prepared and mine is… over there,” he whined in return as he looked to a far table with a few bottles of salves and potions. One of which was his small container of moisturizer he would claim was for his dried-out skin due to the cold before he would admit to the other private uses for it. “Silver one to the left.” Looking over, Hawke’s eyes glowed briefly as the little canister levitated and floated over to be within reach.

“Mages,” the commander shook his head with a smile, but promptly took what he needed from the air and popped the lid. Inside was a white-orange cream he took a dab of on his fingertips before tossing the rest of the canister to the floor. Reaching down, it was smeared over the accessible puckered opening and on his own hardened organ. Once lining himself to enter, he took Hawke’s other hand to pin it above the pile of white hair as well. “I used to tell my recruits that your type didn’t need to use their hands to cast spells, but I wonder if you’ll be just as capable in this scenario.” Before an answer could be said, he kissed again Hawke again, but the sharp pain of being inserted into made him bite down on the invading lower lip hard enough to draw blood. Cursing, Cullen pulled away just enough to be out of danger, but their noses still touched as he continued to pound away at the trapped man underneath him. The headboard bounced repeatedly off the stone wall and the floor creaked as it was about to fall apart right from underneath them. Locking eyes once more, he cried out as his seed spilled for a second time. Hawke winced from the sensation as he soon followed with his own eruption, his body clenching around the member still buried deep inside.

Panting, his fingers were slowly released as Cullen pulled out and rolled over onto his back with a leg hanging off the edge of the bed. The yellow curls of his hair stuck out like tumbleweed and became the source of Hawke’s amusement as he snickered while attempting to flatten them back down in vain while the mage’s own hair also stuck up in wild spikes with his overgrown bangs glued to his forehead from sweat which Cullen brushed away with a smile before leaning in for another much sweeter kiss this time. “Was that a thank you?” he was asked half-jokingly while being looked down upon.

“More like a _you’re welcome_ , I would think.”

“And people say you don’t have a sense of humor, Rutherford. So, time to ruin the mood with seriousness then?” He was given an animal-like head nudge before being rolled on top of to be stared at. “When is the last time you took your lyrium, Templar?” Hands automatically went to cup the brown-skinned rear when he was laid down upon, but his teasing stopped as he was asked such a question.

“…How did you…?”

“Your blood. I could taste it… or I should say, I couldn’t taste it. Firstly, I’m a mage, so don’t ask me how I can taste it. Secondly, I did have a… relationship with someone who had lyrium embedded into their flesh. Briefly. I also understand that blue lyrium may be in short supply, but surely you can…”

“I am not a Templar. Not anymore… and it isn’t a lack of supplies, Seren. I have simply stopped taking it.”

“What?” Surprised, Hawke moved his hands to push the upper part of his body up to hover over his bed partner. “What do you mean you stopped taking it? Cullen, you can’t just…”

“I did, alright? It’s done.”

“But you’ll go into withdrawal and…”

“I’m already in withdrawal… and that’s my problem.”

“But you’ll die!” With a patient sigh, Cullen closed his eyes.

“Again, that’s something I have to risk… Hawke? Seren, come back to bed,” he mumbled as the mage had stood up in a huff to pace in frustration.

“You just told me that you’re willing to die because of lyrium! We have enough to worry about with rifts, the sky being torn apart, demons, darkspawn, and Maker knows what else, but now I have to worry about you killing yourself?!” Growling, he took a particular offense to being yelled at and stood as well to grab the ranting man by the shoulders.

“Me? You’re the one who runs off with the apostate that blew up the Chantry, disappeared for a year, and only now came with a stab wound which barely missed your heart that you refuse to tell me about! Aren’t you being just as reckless?” Pressing his lips together into a thin line, the champion pulled away once his scar was mentioned and looked to the ground.

“…It’s just a wound. Plenty of people were trying to kill Anders after what happened. Varric wrote _Tales of the Champion_  for my sake, complete with a version of me that looks nothing like I do really. No one recognized me once we separated from other Kirkwall mages…”

“Yes, and I am grateful he described you as a giant man with pitch-black hair, pale skin, and the beard of a dwarf, but if you really received that wound from protecting Anders, you would have just said so…”

“Don’t forget how I supposedly smear the blood of my slain enemies across my face,” he stopped to chuckle dryly. “I kill darkspawn, dragons, and poorly-dressed slavers. Why in the Maker’s name would I smear blood on my face?” Sitting back on the bed, Cullen hung his head down until he felt fingers stroking his messed hair again.

“You only killed that one dragon…”

“There were a lot of baby ones!” was protested while attempting to lighten the mood, but it once again felt solemn. “How bad are your symptoms? From the withdrawal, I mean?” There was a shrug.

“Fever, restlessness, some mild shaking. The pain comes and goes. Nothing I can’t handle, but…”

“…If I tell you where I got this scar, will you let me help you? No matter what it is?” Looking up, the sad, green eyes were searched for sliver of hope to hold onto.

“…Agreed.” With a smile, Hawke turned away to kneel down next to his armor and took his knife out from its hiding place. Cullen remembered that blade. It was the very same one which was refused to kill Anders with. He was sat next to once again and watched it cut a brown palm open. “…Blood magic? …So it’s taken you after all?”

“No, I’m not about to summon a demon or anything… Give me your hand.” There was a silent, stubborn refusal at first. “Come on, you said you trusted me, so trust me.” Pressured but true to his word, the his hand was give, and as expected, it was also cut into the very same way. “Now the tricky part… Don’t let go alright?” he was warned as his wounded palm was grasped. A blue light appeared, swirling wind and magic around them strong enough to shake the bed about as much as it was when they were making love on it. He cried out in pain as his veins lit up down his arm and throughout the rest of his body. It only took a few seconds before the light vortexed into his chest, briefly illuminating his heart before dispersing. Releasing his friend, Hawke fainted into his arms, blacking out for a few seconds but quickly came to after being caught. The wounds had also healed, only leaving a splash of red. “See. No demons.”

“…Wha? ...What did you do?” Cullen asked as he carefully laid him on top of the pillows to rest.

“It’s a… healing technique Anders developed that merges the blood of two people. Not his own, but say… a healthy person who recently got over a certain illness and someone who is still sick and too weak to recover. We take some of the healthy blood, sprinkle a bit of healing magic in, and move it to the sick. The healthy blood, with help, will fight off the illness that would otherwise take weeks to cure with normal treatment if the person doesn’t die first. While there is technically blood AND magic involved, I wouldn’t call it blood magic… Not really anyway. People use leaches to drain bad blood all the time. No one talks about selling their soul to the leaches…” He tried to laugh at his own joke, but only ended up groaning in pain.

“Why would you give me your blood?” But with a held out arm, it was immediately noticed how it wasn’t shaking anymore.

“Because I like you.” The blush on the commander's face made him laugh again into a fit of coughs. “And also because I’m a mage. My blood reacts differently to lyrium. I use it to enhance my abilities, but I do not have a dependency on it. Even without a potion, I will still regenerate my strength albeit slower. I charged my blood to take over the nasty bits of your normal boring blood... It’s not a cure and will only be temporary …but considering tomorrow’s battle, I… We need you at your best.” Even though he understood most of what he was being told, the ex-Templar still frowned at the thought any sort of foul magic at work. Still, he had given his word and didn’t see a demon anywhere, so he had to put faith in his friend as promised. Putting the arm down, he moved to crawl on top of him once again.

“And now you tell me about the scar on your chest. The one that looks as if it was made with your own knife over there.” Sighing, Hawke was hoping it would be forgotten, but a part of him knew better.

“…That’s because it was my own knife.”

“And you’re not the type to fall on your own sword…”

“…No, I didn’t do it to myself. It was… Justice.” Blonde eyebrows furrowed at the response.

“Justice? You mean Anders?! Why would he try to kill you?!”

“No, I mean it was Justice. Anders is… gone. For now.”

“Gone?” Now there was more concern than anger. “What do you mean he’s gone? You told the Inquisitor that you left him behind because of the Wardens.”

“And I did, but it was also because of the Breach and all the massive holes to the Fade. Anders and I were traveling south since he wanted to get in touch with his old Commander after Kirkwall. We couldn’t make it that far since many of the wardens had no idea how to reach their own leader. We were heading towards Amarathine when the Breach appeared and a rift opened up near us. We sensed demons and were ready to fight when Anders took my blade from my belt and attacked me without warning, but it wasn’t him. Being close to the Fade, Justice took control and... Well, let’s just say that I’m not his favorite person in the world. The only reason he missed my heart was because Anders is still in there. Somewhere. There’s just enough to keep him from killing or leaving me, but still. Since then, he reminds me every chance he gets that if not for Anders, I would be disposed of.”

“That bastard!…I…I…” But before Cullen could rant, he stopped himself as Hawke had turned over to avoid any further questioning. “…I’m sorry. This must be very difficult for you.”

“If stopping the rifts will bring Anders back, I’m willing to do whatever it takes. I don’t know what will happen tomorrow. so I’m glad we cleared the air… among other things.” Rolling to face his former, or perhaps current, friend once again, he looked up with a sad expression. “If I don’t make it out of the fortress alive tomorrow, will you… at least tell him that I tried? Even if you only talk to Justice, I know Anders is part of him. Please?” His requested was nodded to and he snuggled against the broad, warm, bare chest keeping him safe for now to rest. “Thank you.” Running his fingers through the pale hair of his companion, Cullen gave him enough time to fall asleep before getting comfortable himself.

“I should have just said I loved you back then. Imagine where we would be now,” he whispered before drifting off, not noticing the tickling against his collarbone was from blinking eyelashes.


	3. Part Three

“Fucking. Darkspawn. Bastards!” Fireball after fireball was shot into the air as Hawke took his frustrations out at the hole in the sky. “This is your fault! If not for you, I could be on a beach somewhere with zombie pirates or something as equally normal with my luck!”

“Your luck is pretty awful,” chuckled Cullen as he stood behind just out of range of accidently being singed by a stray spark from the angry mage. “If you really wanted to sneak off into the woods and remain hidden, I would have suggested not shooting up what amounts to flares for someone to easily locate your position. Food for thought.” Frowning, Hawke turned to him with both fists clenched in anger. Fierce, green eyes stared daggers before deviating to the clouds above.

“I take it you’re here to talk me out of leaving for Weisshaupt? The Wardens need to know what happened at Adamant… and with Stroud gone…” A gloved hand was held up to his face, stopping him before he could say anymore.

“You do not need to explain yourself to me, Seren. I was there, remember? I only came to thank you for returning as you did. You saved me and many of my men as your… the Inquisitor cleared the ramparts.” The brown nose crinkled at what was meant to be said.

“You hesitated there, Rutherford, but I’m sure you know it to be true now just as much as the next person. Hard to argue with the facts.” As Cullen moved to stand next to his side, a look was given to the exploding fireworks before nodding.

“He does take after you in the worst way, doesn’t he?” he teased as he took the champion’s left hand to slow the pyrotechnics down. “In which case, may I ask you to stay? If not for me or Varric or the Inquisition for that matter… but for your son?” Letting his right arm fall to his side, Seren sighed as he plopped down onto the snowy hill with his head hung low, pulling the other down with him.

“He doesn’t need me to stay. We didn’t even know of one another until a few days ago after nearly twenty years. He’s perfectly fine without me. You both are.”

“A boy needs his father, no matter how old he is.” As he sat next to the object of his affection, Cullen leaned over to nudge his forehead against a cold, rosy cheek. “You know this.”

“But I’m not a father,” was insisted stubbornly, though there wasn't any squirming away at first from the closing gap between them. “I had no idea I even had a child until that letter came! Even then, I thought it was a joke! At most, perhaps the _one time_ I was with Isabella produced something more terrible than the rash I had on my thigh for a week, but he’s not child, is he? He’s a grown man! I could handle a baby or toddler and _maybe_ explain that away to Anders without having to dodge lightning bolts, but to say that my offspring is from some married noblewoman in Ostwick I can’t even _remember_ sleeping with because I was only around fifteen years old at the time and likely heavily intoxicated is now leader of the bloody **_Inquisition_**?! If I didn’t meet him in person, I wouldn’t even believe it myself and I’ve _seen_ the craziest shit...”

“…So, how exactly did you impregnate an off-the-market Trevelyan in the first place?” asked Cullen while trying poorly to hide his amusement. “Just how much debauchery did you participate in with wealthy nobles?”

“Much and quite often really, you’d be surprised.”

“Not likely, but go on.”

“You have to understand that my father died three years before the last Blight, so before that, it was all of us living together and hiding from Templars. My father and I were already enough of a threat as is, but when Bethany was born, there was suddenly three apostates hiding under a small, thatched roof in Lothering. As the eldest, I left when I was capable to find work and stayed on the move so Father could be with Mother and the twins. I was barely old enough to be alone and there were only certain types of work a mage could do at the time.”

“So, you were a mercenary then?”

“What in Andraste’s name was I supposed to be, Cullen? A bloody tailor?” he laughed as he leaned into the warmth. “I was young and didn’t do much fighting, really. I was… bait. You know, charming the lustful, young nobles bored at their parents’ parties to gain entry to their houses and estates. Convinced them to sneak me into their rooms and make sure no one would be around to see us.”

“Meanwhile other mercenaries would creep into an otherwise empty manor and make off with whatever they could carry?”

“Indeed. We were paid to steal papers, bills of sale, discrediting evidence, and anything else looted was part of our bonus. They would slip in the back door… while I would sometimes be doing the same.” Cullen choked on his own laughter to the point where he had to cover his mouth as he coughed it up. “But when Father died, I returned home. Carver was too young to deal with family matters and Mother was beside herself in grief. We all were. It was a difficult time and of course, then the Blight started and we also lost Bethany…” As Hawke's voice trailed off, a comforting arm was placed around his shoulders.

“Carver often spoke of her in the barracks. She seemed to be a very special woman, loving and kind.”

“She also sang terribly off-key and teased me for losing my hair color at an early age,” the champion smiled in fond remembrance.

“You mean you weren’t born like this?” Taking a few of the pale strands between his fingers, they were looked at it before kissing at Hawke’s ear. “How odd.” Laughing, the mage put a hand to the commander’s face and moved him playfully away.

“It’s a curse, I think. The males in my family who are mages, once magic develops, our hair and eyes change. It happened to Father, myself, and my…son. Believe or not, I once had raven-black hair and brown eyes, the same as Carver and Bethany. Or was it blue…?”

“I enjoy your shade now," was insisted as the while locks were finger-combed. "It's at least flattering on you. When my hair turns white, I’ll be a feeble, old thing yelling at young recruits to stop visiting the local brothel.”

“Waving your former Knight-Captain sword at frisky mages as you retell stories of the Rebellion and how you were the ruggedly handsome, unshaven, brave Commander of the Inquisition’s armies? A litter of your own grandchildren surrounding you, I bet.”

“Do you really believe that?” With a nod, Hawke grinned and stood to brush the snow off his pants.

“Of course. You’ll find a wife, have a dozen mini-Templars, and grow old and senile with the best of them.”

“And you?” Cullen gave a concerned look as he rose to his feet, but his gaze was avoided.

“Me? I won’t make it that far with my track record. If the Wardens don’t decide to simply hang me for what happened to Stroud, they’ll surely have some punishment in store for harboring Anders…”

“So, you’re leaving here to your own death then? Hawke, that’s just…”

“Just what? I’ve done terrible things, Cullen… and there are plenty of other things I _didn’t_ do, but should have. I fled with Anders after Kirkwall to keep him safe from the Chantry, other mages, and the Wardens because I love him. Do you know how selfish that was?”

“…Love itself is a very selfish act, Hawke, but even I understand…”

“No, you don’t! Stop saying that you do because you really, _really_ don’t.” Taking a few steps away, he looked towards the vortex as the sun began to set. “Everything I’ve done, I knew it was wrong. Do not misunderstand, I still love Anders. It might not be very… romantic, but maybe it never was. Even before Justice took over entirely, we still fought each other over nearly everything and his mood swings are... Well, there are two people occupying a single space. Use your imagination.”

“Then…why?” Moving closer, he reached out to touch Hawke’s face, but was pulled away from once again.

“Because we’re _monsters_ who deserve each other.”

“You’re not a monster, Hawke. Why would you even think that?”

“Other than every Templar I ever met agreeing with me on that point, including you?” The snap response wounded the solider on a personal level and he pressed his lips together as the pain resonated in his chest.

“I didn’t like the man I had become when I told you that. It isn’t true.”

“But you weren’t wrong. Mages are monsters, Cullen. At least, we have the power to easily become one. One slip, one good deed gone wrong, someone we care about pushing us to make terrible choices. You above all others should know what happens then. We tear massive holes in the Fade. We summon a fucking demon army. We destroy a Chantry with innocent people inside. That’s how it always ends.”

“That isn’t because of _mages_ , Seren. It’s because of power-starved warmongers encouraging the use of blood magic and manipulate good people. You once told me how a crazed man with a sword is just as dangerous as a mage who cannot control themselves, but you _can_ control yourself. You’ve dealt with more blood magic than any veteran Templar I know and you still resist the temptation even though I’m sure you feel as if it would be so much easier to give in. Look at where we are now. Sure, it was called a _Mage Rebellion_ , but the mages we have rescued are here and helping us. It’s the Red Templars we have to be more concerned with.”

“But my only concern is Anders and what the Wardens will do with him… which is why I can’t leave him alone… and how running off with him in the first place made me as ever the same guilty creature.”

“And what of your son? Would you call him a monster as well?”

“Only if I stick around long enough to ruin him as I do everyone else. Anyone I try to protect dies… which is why I can’t stay. What I want, what I’ve always wanted, it doesn’t matter anymore.” As Hawke stood there staring at the ground, Cullen’s lips curved in disapproval as he stepped closer.

“You weren’t like this before you went into the Fade with the Inquisitor. What happened to you in there?” Still visibly angry if only at just himself, the mage kicked at the snow with his boots.

“The Fear Demon was attempting to break our confidence, so it started to _share_ what everyone’s greatest fears are. You know the fellow with the terrible mustache my son is with? Well, his fear was turning into his own father while mine was… about Anders dying. Even if he did manage to survive the false Calling, he won’t survive when the real one summons him… which will probably be soon.”

“Ah,” he finally understood. It wasn’t like the great Champion of Kirkwall to show fear, even when faced with a powerful enemy, but to know certain death awaited for someone he cared despite all of his efforts could break the resolve of any hero.

“As I said before, I thought perhaps it was the rifts which forced Justice to the surface, but Anders... Justice, I mean, attacked me once before when I originally fought Corypheus. Anders kept trying to tell me that he was hearing voices, but no one else could hear anything.”

“Voices? Whose?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “Darkspawn? The Archdemon? Corypheus? It only grew worse the deeper we went and he began to scream for help. I tried to, but as I reached for him, he... Justice lashed out at me. What bothers me the most is that I didn’t put it together sooner. When Justice was attacking us, he effortlessly summoned two shades out of nowhere as if he had reached into the Fade and grabbed them from thin air. There wasn’t any blood magic or casting involved. Not even an Elven chant. Nothing. He simply called for them and they appeared. What if Justice was protecting Anders from answering his Calling then? Now with the Fear Demon silenced, he may be back to normal and waiting for me to return.” Pinching the bridge of his nose, he grunted from his own thoughts in pain. “At least I hope he’s waiting for me and not already turned himself into the Wardens. I can’t just… I have to save him, Rutherford. I made a promise. This… All of this is my fault. Corypheus, Anders, everything.”

“You didn’t force Corypheus into creating the Breach just as you did not assist Anders in destroying the Chantry.” Cullen once again reached out to take the mage’s shoulders before caressing the still frosty pink and brown cheeks.

“I unleashed Corypheus though! I was arrogant enough to believe I had killed him and left him there free from the Warden’s cell. Even if I didn’t help Anders, I still wanted him. The worst part is that I’m _happy_ about the choices I’ve made. If I made Anders go back to the Wardens, he would be dead now by being enslaved to summon demons if not long since executed for treason. I need to go to them to beg for a pardon and offer myself to their service since I took not only one of their own away, but two!” Frowning, Cullen shook his head and removed his hands from the cold skin.

“That doesn’t make any sense and you know it! Why sacrifice yourself for something you didn’t do? It wasn’t you who made Anders the way he is and it wasn’t you who killed Stroud!”

“But I wanted to stay!” He was shouted at and pushed away even further. “I left Stroud to die! The only reason why Vesper chose me was to escape is because of who I am to him!”

“So?” the answer was dismissive after stumbling backwards and slipping on the ice from being shoved. “We all have to make sacrifices here. He chose you because he wanted you to live and he needs you to live still. Stroud was a Grey Warden who died for his cause to make it better for the few Wardens left and to set an example of what their oath truly means. Stop seeing yourself as so helpless and alone, because you are not! You have your brother, your son, Varric, and Anders still!”

“…What about you?”

“Well, of course you have me,” he tried to smile as he put a hand to his face to calm himself down. “That goes without saying. Do you truly believe that any one of us would be _happy_ to see you throw your life away?”

“What will you have me do then?” Shifting his weight to his back leg, Hawke stood there genuinely too tired to continue this circular argument.

“All I ask is that you come back to Skyhold just for the night. Clear your head, get some rest, and set off tomorrow. No one will try to stop you, but to leave full of doubts and concerns now will likely be the end of you and I love you too much to really put that in the back of my mind.” The exhausted mage couldn’t help but laugh at how he was confessed to with such serious expression causing the commander to flush red in his cheeks even more so than from the bitter chill.

“I… I give up, Cullen. You win this round. I’ll leave tomorrow and have Varric send letters to Carver and Anders in case he has returned to normal,” he managed to say in-between his fits of snickering. “Just…Just stop saying embarrassing things like that. I heard you the first _two_ times already.”

“…First _two_ times?” choked the surprised ex-Templar as he had an arm put around his red fur-lined neck.

“Sure, you told me both times we were in bed together, although this is the first time you’ve told me with pants on. One would call that progress, wouldn’t you agree? You should keep in mind that everyone is not as heavy of a sleeper as you are. _Food for thought_.”

“…Maker." A hand ran over his face as he was led back to Skyhold. As the sun rose overhead and shone down through the holes in Cullen’s loft, he rolled over to put his arm across a nearly empty side of his bed. Hawke had taken his leave as he said he would, only leaving a note tied around a small wooden box.

_Cullen,_

_As you can probably tell by how frosty your neither regions are, I have gone to meet the Wardens. I have left instructions with Varric to send letters ahead to my brother and Anders explaining where I’ll be in case either one of them wants to scold me in person. Enclosed are a few vials of my blood to ease your lyrium withdrawal, though if you ever wish to find me again, I suggest not using the one that’s a bit… glowy. Anders always made such a fuss about phylacteries, so best not to tell him how I left one just in case a certain Knight-Captain wishes to relive his glory days and track down an extremely good-looking, known apostate for fun._

_At any rate, good luck with your **Inquisitioning** and take care of my son. Tell him that I… well. Tell him something fatherly because I’m leaving all the parental duties up to you. I really do see you having a family in the future, Rutherford. Think of this as practice._

_In case we never cross paths again, I wanted you to know how even though you beat yourself up about letting me leave after the night we spent together in Kirkwall to avoid ‘Templar Shaming’, I also left thinking the very same thing. Isn’t that something? I said I loved you as well, but you’re such a heavy sleeper! It’s adorable how your ringlets get all out of place when you’re passed out like a mabari full on Orlesian ham (even though I’m told it taste like despair). I bet they’re like that now, aren’t they?_

_I honestly have no idea as to what is going to happen when I reach out to the First Warden. I don’t know what will happen to Anders either, but I can’t abandon him. I made a promise. If the world doesn’t end and if I’m not forced into drinking darkspawn blood from a chalice or worse, maybe we can then have a real conversation about our terrible sleeping habits._

_Until then, I suppose you'll just have to hold on to that piece of my heart you stole back in Kirkwall for a little longer._

_S. Hawke_

_P.S Tell Varric I love him just to see what kind of face he makes._

_P.P.S Tell Vesper I love him as well in the fatherly way and to stop flirting with you. It’s weird._

Upon opening the box, a few tears splashed on the red-filled, glass tubes held within. The odd-looking one, in the shape of a compass encased in a gold broach with a matching chain, emitted a faint glow indicating to the north.

Running his fingers through his messy yellow hair, Varric sat at his claimed table with a stack of parchment and plenty of ink. So far, his only progress on the letters he was talked into writing were, _Dear Little Hawke_ on one and _Dear Blondie_ on another. “Varric? Do you have a moment?” the inquisitor asked as he tried to peek over the dwarf’s shoulder.

“Can it wait? I’ve got some letters to write…”

“Ah, yes,” the young mage said. “Of course, but… I… as I said before I’ve read your book, _Tales of the Champion,_ and had some questions about Hawke... I mean, my father. My real father, at any rate I suppose...” After a groan, the quill was put down.

“Okay, so I _may_ have exaggerated a bit, but I swear to you, _most_ of it is still true,” was chuckled and Vesper was motioned to sit down. “I guess with him being your blood and all, you deserve to hear the real story.”

“More real than the one you told Cassandra at least?” he laughed softly as he was surprisingly good natured about most things, a trait he had unknowingly inherited.

“The most realistic version yet!” the rogue also laughed. “Though I should probably leave out the mushy stuff… You are his kid, after all.”

“But I already know about Fenris, Anders, and Cullen…”

“And Isabella! Your father was a bit of a heartbreaker. Every time he fell in love, he got his heart broken.”

“Pretty sure that’s not what _heartbreake_ r means…”

“Details! So where should we begin? Ah, how about, _There were five of them before the Fifth Blight began… Malcolm, Leandra, Seren, Carver, and Bethany…_ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End of Part three spoilers: Hawke and the Inquisitor screenshots http://stoletarts.tumblr.com/post/104892863916/dragon-age-inquisition-inquisitor-and-hawke


	4. Bonus Chapter - Return to the Winter Palace

“It’s strange to see you alone at one of these balls, Cullen,” Cassandra commented as she stood next to the commander while he nursed a glass of red wine. “You were nearly overrun with suitors at the last gathering.”

“That’s because they have their eyes set on someone new,” Leliana, now known as Divine Victoria, teased as she turned towards the crowd on the other side of the room. There, Seren Hawke was being flocked by several Orlesian nobles, all asking his questions of his heroic deeds and laughing in unison when he delivered the punchline to his dirty jokes. When he finally locked eyes with Cullen, his expression changed to a questionably cry for help. The ex-Templar only smiled though, raising his glass as if to wish his lover good luck.

“It’s nice to have a bit of breathing room. Nothing he can’t handle on his own.” Hawke’s expression soured though when his visual request was denied and huffed.

“Will you honor me with a dance?” a young woman wearing a long-nosed mask then asked him.

“Of course he won’t, you ugly troll. He’s dancing with me!” an older nobleman rebutted. Hawke laughed, putting his hands up as he tried to calm the situation.

“I’m afraid I cannot dance with you… Either of you,” he gently turned the demands down.

“No? Why not?” a different masked woman asked.

“Yes, why not?!” asked another.

“Well, you see,” Seren began as he looked to Cullen once again, but was only smiled at. “I shall explain, so please everyone. Follow me.” With that, he side-stepped to walk across the room with his entourage whispering as their small shoes tapped on the marble tiles close behind. Cullen looked surprised, lowering his spent cup as the crowd came towards him. “The thing is, I promised Commander Rutherford here the first dance of the evening. Unfortunately, until he makes time for me, I am simply unavailable.”

“Perhaps the commander has time for you now,” Cassandra suggested, knowing full well she was encouraging Hawke’s devious plan.

“Yes, he is free now,” Leliana added as she smoothly took the empty glass from Cullen’s fingers as he stammered.

“But, I… Maker,” he laughed and straightened his posture. “Will you do me the honor of having this next dance, Serrah Hawke?” he bowed formally.

“Certainly, Commander. It would be my pleasure,” Seren returned the gesture and took the offered hand. He tried not to laugh when he waved farewell to his fans as he was pulled down the stairs onto the dancefloor.

“You…are so terrible,” Cullen teased as he placed a firm grip around Hawke’s waist once they were out of earshot from the antsy Orlesians. “Were you planning that little show of yours from the start?” Hawke was spun out and back in in time with the music, but embraced his partner from behind upon his return.

“I figured either two things would happen,” he whispered into Cullen’s ear. “Either you’d actually dance with me or create a good excuse to find a dark corner somewhere to hide in. Either way would have been fine with me. Figured we’d fool around before some random assassins sprung out or we stumble across a dead body at least. Things like that always happen when I go to fancy parties.” There was a chuckle and Cullen turned to once again to be face-to-face, retaking the lead.

“You described the last time I was here perfectly, but this is much better. So far, at least, and I have you clinging to me instead of those brown-nosers over there.” Before Hawke could protest as to who was clinging to whom, he was kissed for the entire court and any nearby contract killers to see.


	5. Why Did You Stay?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prequel short while in Haven. Based off the question the Inquisitor can ask Varric when speaking to him for the first time there after he wakes up.

“Varric? Varric, what’s this about Hawke being the Herald of… Sweet Maker. That…is not him… Is it?” Cullen asked as he walked with the storyteller into the small cabin on the outskirts of Haven. On the bed slept the young man who had caused these rumors and whispers of a silver-haired savior with bright-green eyes that glowed in sync to the mark on his hand.

“That’s most definitely not the Hawke we know,” Varric confirmed as he locked the door behind them. “But that’s definitely  _a_ Hawke, for sure.”

“How is that possible?” mumbled Cullen as he brushed loose snowy bangs aside to force open a closed eye, only to jump back at the color matching the one in his memory. “It’s the bloody same, though he’s much younger than Seren. A bit lighter as well. …Are those freckles?” Leaning in, he turned up his nose.

“Cute, right?” laughed Varric after he stood at Cullen’s side. “Says his name is Trevelyan. Vesper Trevelyan from Ostwick. If he knows our Hawke, he puts on a good show, but I’m pretty sure he hasn’t got a clue. He’s a circle mage for fuck’s sake.”

“Seriously?” Cullen looked stunned as he stood up straight once again. “Yet another mage. That’s too much of a coincidence.”

“No shit, but look at him. He’s just a kid. Maybe just turned twenty? …Hey, do you think that he’s Seren’s? Kid, I mean.”

“What? No…” But there was a pause as Cullen began to consider the timeline. “Well, ten years ago he was already in Kirkwall. Twenty years ago, his father died while he was in…”

“The Free Marches.” The commander gave an audible groan. 

“He would have had a child. That’s so like him! Sticking his cock in every single hole he can find! But why wouldn’t he tell us?!” Varric shrugged.

“He didn’t stay there long. From what he told me, he was only around a few months before he got word that Malcolm died. He probably didn’t know.”

“Ugh, and a noblewoman to boot. There would have been a scandal. Being impregnated by an overly charming apostate and having his mage baby. She likely never told anyone, even her own son.”

“And with the Blight, Hawke ended up in Kirkwall anyway. So many people died, it was probably just a well-kept family shame.”

“Well, we can’t just leave him. If he is Hawke's child, we need to make sure no one else puts together who his father is,” Cullen sighed as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Contact him and let him know to keep out of sight. We can’t have anyone confusing him and the Herald.”

“And what about Cassandra?”

“She…doesn’t need to know. It would only make things worse.” He paused to look up. “Did Leliana see him already?”

“Yep. She didn’t say anything though.”

“…She likely knows there are bigger issues to deal with right now, but I will talk to her. Thank you for bringing this to my attention.”

“Should I put in a good word for you too? I’m sure Hawke would be happy to know that you’re safe, at least.”

“…I…doubt that,” he shook his head with a sad smile. Reaching for the door, he unhooked the latch and pushed it to leave while Varric remained behind and gave a final look to the still unconscious boy on the bed.

“Not sure what it is about Hawkes having to save our asses during these world-ending events, but I feel a lot better knowing you’re here. Heh or maybe you’re just a bunch of unlucky sons of bitches. Either way, guess I have to stick around. What would you do without a trusty sidekick?”


	6. Wedding Vows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seren Hawke and Cullen exchange their wedding vows.
> 
> Dated sometime after Hawke and His Lingering Regrets and Puppy Love.

Cullen Rutherford's Vows:

_When we first met, you pretended to be a dragon. When I asked you to breath fire to prove it, you blew rose petals in my face instead. I instantly fell for you then. Eight years later, I saw you again in Kirkwall. You exposed yourself to me, a Templar, as a mage if only to save my life. That is how I will forever remember you; the young man who wooed me with roses and risked everything to help someone you didn’t even remember._

_Still, I was a coward. I held my tongue as well as my feelings in check, fearful of the outcome of expressing how I felt. I was scared of change, of the repercussions for breaking my vows. As I stand here today, I wish I had told you properly how much you meant to me. So, let me say this now, for all to hear because I am no longer afraid._

_I love you, Seren. I’ve loved you for longer than I can remember. From the day we first met until the day we go to the Maker’s side, even beyond. I promise that I will never lie to you or betray you in any way. I will be honest and faithful for all of our days. If the Chantry taught me anything, it’s that faith is rewarded. I place that faith in you and I hope you will continue to trust your faith with me._

 

Seren Hawke's Vows:

_If you would have told me ten years ago that a mage and a templar would be standing at an altar together without a mob waiting to tear them apart, I would have called you a liar. Still, here we are with the Chantry’s blessing. It’s amazing, isn’t it? We like to say that love will conquer all, but do we ever really believe it?_

_It turns out that happy endings are more than what we call our visits to The Blooming Rose. They are when something amazing happens and you live to reap the rewards...and we survived, Cullen._

_Some say a relationship is based in blood, sweat, and tears. In our case, this is true. We bled together while working to create a better world and mourned our losses along the way. If not for you, I wouldn’t be here today. You've saved my life more times than I wish to count and I hope to return the favor by being at your side until the Maker sees otherwise…and even then, I pray He allows us to find comfort in each other as the darkness takes us from this place and onto the next great adventure._

_Thank you for making me remember what happiness is again._


End file.
